Thursday, January 6, 2011

He

he would tell you stories
of wars kept and lost
in his arms, once strong
etched a map of the trail
he planned to follow

steps hindered
of echoes of you
blurring
his sight, your images
burn a thousand promises
and one..you

he will not speak
of tomorrows, void
nor of a past, scarred
not even of today
where only his dreams
hold, the last breath
saved for the last whisper
of an undying love

1 comment:

  1. Perhaps you have noticed ,
    My first impression is the only impression.
    Like cukoo's song or a masterpiece painting , or
    beautiful symphony leaves the impact which hums in my mind for a long time .Some of your poems leave such impression and unfortunately this one doesnot.Why ? I do not know . May be You are not RINGING yourself enough so that we get the essence of YOU.

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